There was something about Nicholas that had changed. His gaze no longer held uncertainty but a confidence that disconcerted me. A simple touch from him was possessive and protective. Our time together was dwindling, but I felt like we were just getting started. Like our story was just beginning.
“You know what I first thought the night I saw you sitting on the couch at the party?” He was on the wrong side of needing a shave and his beard scratched against my temple as he spoke.
“No.”
“I kept trying not to stare. If it had been any other girl, I would have. But you seemed so small and out of place.”
“I was.”
“I kept thinking, 'I want to talk to her. She looks like the kind of person I could trust’.”
“And did you?” I looked up at him, seeing the long eyelashes that looked so unnatural on a man yet served to make me hyper aware of every movement those eyes made.
“I trusted you the second I sat down next to you. But it went so much further than that.” He pulled me closer and buried his nose in my hair. “When we were up on that roof, it was like I’d known you all my life. I hadn't talked to anyone about Emily. Not even a shrink. But there I was not an hour after meeting you, telling you my feelings about her.”
I pulled back a little and focused on our feet. “I should have told you, Nicholas.”
His index finger lifted my chin and he pressed his lips to mine as if in forgiveness. “We'll just say from here on out we won't keep anymore secrets from each other.”
That sounded like a great plan in theory.
“I've never had a woman kiss me first...did you know that? I've never let them.”
I smiled, shaking my head. “I find that awful hard to believe.”
“Well, I mean when things were just getting started.”
“What can I say? I’ve always been special.” I kissed him then, lightly on his lips then his nose.
“Anyone ever told you you're a great kisser?”
I shook my head but smiled when I remembered he'd told me this. “Come to think of it, that does sound familiar.”
Nicholas licked his lips and lowered his mouth to mine. It started out as his typical gentle, controlled kiss. Soon enough, his tongue touched mine and as if his control snapped, his tongue plunged into my mouth. Standing on my tiptoes, I groaned and pressed as close as I could. His large hands splayed over my back, holding me against his hard chest. Our bodies molded together from mouth to thigh.
I wanted more, so much more, but to my disappointment the heated kiss drew to a close. I tried to ramp it up again to no avail. When he pulled away, his fingertips grazed my jaw and his eyes turned reverent. “Being with you is amazing,” Nicholas whispered.
I took a deep breath and offered him a smile even though it was the last thing I felt like doing. His heartbeat under my hand pounded and I saw the look in his eyes that he was about to say something profound. I sought my brain for a way out, but I couldn't think clearly.
“I've never known anyone like you, Sophie. You're so quiet but I can see you're confident. Maybe not in how you look – which I find ridiculous – but you're confident in all the ways that matter like...” He shrugged. “Your job. Being a friend. Being with me.”
Boy, did he have that one all wrong. Confidence around him was like saying something was temporarily permanent. It just wasn't possible.
“Everything about you,” he went on after he took a deep breath, “is...perfect. Emily had every right to love you as much as she did.”
I looked down at his chest as my eyes filled with tears. I tried to convince myself it was just words, but somewhere along the way it became impossible to not believe him.
“Sophie...” he started again. Something danced in his eyes that was reminiscent of what I’d seen in one of my favorite movies right before the hero proclaimed his love.
“This is just a dance, Nicholas,” I said quietly. It was all I could do to stop the freight train headed straight for me.
And it worked. His eyes snapped to mine, searching. “Is it?” His jaw pulsed and his lips pressed together.
“Yes. That's all.” I ignored the way my heart suddenly felt heavy in my chest and how the back of my eyes stung. I didn't want to hurt him but surely he wasn't thinking straight. He wasn't in a position for us to get serious, and neither was I.
But that apparently wasn't stopping him. “Look at me.” He touched my chin and pushed upward.
I knew he saw the tears. He could see every emotion I was feeling and this is just a dance wasn't one of them. “Why can't you let it go?” he asked.
I frowned. “Let what go?”
“Whatever it is you’re keeping from me.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
He muttered an oath under his breath and took my shoulders in his hands. “Here I am trying to let you in, Sophie. I'm trying and it's not easy because I've never done it before. But I feel something with you. I don't know what it is, but I wish you would at least open up enough to tell me what makes you so sad all the time.”
I sighed and focused on a crumb on the kitchen table to our right.
His hands bit into my flesh and he shook lightly. “Look at me,” he demanded again, only this time I not only felt his anger, but I saw it. His blue eyes darkened in intensity and his nose wrinkled with determination.
“Did this guy beat you?”
I shook my head.
“Make you do something sexually?”
“No!”
“Verbally abuse you?”
I felt my anger rising at his continuance to butt into my life. I didn't welcome it, didn't want it, and certainly didn't want someone like Nicholas, who was likely to walk away in only two days, to know my secrets. So why did I feel the need to tell him? “No!” I yelled.
“Then what?”
“Do you really want to know, Nicholas? Do you? Are you prepared to deal with someone as screwed up as I am?”
He stepped down and released my shoulders, but the anger was still potent. “Yes, that's what I've been trying to tell you! I want you to trust me enough to tell me whatever it is that keeps you from being happy. I want you to let me share the burden with you the way you share Emily's death with me. I want you!”
I stared him down, breathing as if I ran a marathon and angrier than I ever remembered being.
“I had a baby with him, Nicholas! I had a baby with him and she died!”
Chapter 9
“Your baby died?” Emily asked me the night I told her my story.
I nodded. It was odd how I hadn't cried this time when I thought about it. I knew I wasn't healed from losing Victoria and I wasn't sure if I ever would be. But telling Emily lessened the intensity of loneliness I felt. For the first time, I was telling a friend about it.
Tears filled Emily's blue eyes, making them sparkle in the light cast from bedside table.
“Sweetheart, don't cry,” I said, pulling her into my arms.
“Is that why you wanted to be a nurse? To help people like me?”
I smiled at her insightful questions. “Part of the reason, yeah. But mostly because I did something I'm ashamed of, Emily.”
“What?” She turned her gaze upward to look at my face as we snuggled together on her hospital bed.
I rubbed Emily’s fuzzy head and squeezed her in a hug. “Do you know how your mom stays out a lot?”
“Yeah.”
“Well...” I thought for a moment, absently pulling at a loose thread on her treasured pillow. “I did the exact opposite. Victoria was just an eighteen-month-old baby, but I couldn't let her go. I held her all the time. I played with her. I wanted to make sure that she knew I loved her so she would die with a happy heart.”
Emily's eyes were focused on her bare feet. “You were a great Mommy,” she said simply.
“After she died, Em, it was all I could think about. Things I could have done different, how I might not have done something the best way I knew how.
I couldn't let her go and I held on to that sadness for a long time.”
“What happened to Victoria’s daddy?” she asked, looking up at me now. She was referring to Victoria's father, the man I once loved.
“Kevin decided he loved someone else.”
Emily just stared into my eyes, trying to make sense of it all. I left out finding the other woman in my bed, throwing Kevin's clothes in the yard during the thunderstorm, and the years I spent trying to make it all go away. It continued to haunt me, even now. Moving on was the easy part. But living again proved to be harder than I realized.
“You said Victoria got sick like me. Does that mean she had cancer, too?”
I took a deep breath. “Victoria had cancer, yes. Leukemia, like you. But in the end, she got pneumonia and her body couldn't fight the infection.”
“Will I get to meet her? In heaven?”
The lump rose in my throat, swift and hard, choking me. My lungs struggled to keep breathing. Finally, I gasped in a draw of breath. I squeezed Emily against me, wishing with all my strength I could be the one to suffer for her. Children should never be allowed to feel such pain.
“I'm sure she'll be standing there waiting for you.”
I closed my eyes and thought of my daughter. I did that a lot, but today it was different. Instead of picturing her healthy and alive, I pictured her and Emily playing together, their bald heads bowed as they played with a toy. Laughter from two precious souls rang in my ears. Seeing them in my mind's eye that way gave me a sense of peace I hadn't felt in a long time.
“Will you take care of her up there for me?” I whispered.
Emily's bright blue eyes looked into mine with joy. She sat up on one arm. “Me?”
I smoothed my hand against the satin skin on her head. “Mmm hmm. I couldn't think of anyone I'd rather have look after her.”
“I promise I'll do a good job, Sophie. I'll make sure she's eats at all the right times and takes her nap.” Emily bounced a little in her excitement.
I grinned through the sadness because for once, I felt a kindle of hope growing in my heart.
“Are you afraid to die?” Emily suddenly asked me.
I shook my head. “No. Because I know I'll be able to see Victoria again.”
“And me?” she asked of her own death.
“And you. Are you afraid to die?” I asked, figuring it was something she wanted to talk about.
Her gaze drifted down to her pillow and she took my hand in between her fingers and pressed her nail into my skin absently. “Sometimes. But most of the time I just think it's going to be fun in heaven.”
“I think it will be, too.”
“Now I think it'll be even more fun since I get to see Victoria. How will I know it's her? What does she look like?”
“She has dark, curly hair. It bounces when she runs. She's got blue eyes and the sweetest smile you've ever seen. That smile lights up her whole face. She's got chubby little fingers and fat rolls on her thighs.”
A knock sounded on the door and I knew it was probably Jessica.
“Come in!” I called and glanced at the clock. It was almost ten in the evening.
“Hi,” Jessica called from the doorway. She was dressed to a tee, her hair fixed in an up-do and her sparkly earrings dangling. Her eyes were dulled a little, but for the most part, I could tell she was as sober as she was going to get.
“Hey, come on in.” I sat up and released Emily, stepping away. Despite the way Jessica treated her, she was still her mother, and I sometimes felt guilty for spending so much time with Emily. That was especially silly considering it was my job.
Jessica glanced at me nervously then at Emily. “Do you need anything?” she asked softly, taking a hesitant step toward Emily.
Emily's eyes darted to me for approval and after a simple nod, Emily scooted off the bed and extended her arms. “I need a hug.”
Jessica crouched and opened her arms. Emily ran into them wearing the biggest smile I ever saw on her face. Over her shoulder, Jessica's eyes climbed and finally reached mine. I saw the telltale gleam of tears, but before I could fully register it, she lowered her lids.
Emily and Jessica's relationship hadn't always been this way. Emily described to me once of how Jessica would take her to the park and play. She would read her books in the evenings and cook her favorite – a grilled cheese – on rainy days when they were stuck inside. The diagnosis of Emily's leukemia fell like a mask over Jessica's eyes. She could still see the truth, but she was pretending to be someone else. The person Jessica became dealt with grief easier by ignoring it than tackling it head on. Along the way, she became lost. It was hard to remember this when she openly ignored Emily or chose to spend time away from her when her days were numbered. I tried, but I saw the other end of the spectrum once, when I’d spent every second with Victoria and while I wasn't positive it was any better, I certainly didn't have any regrets in that regard.
But in that moment, Jessica was her old self – at least what I envisioned she might have been. I saw the slight smile on her mouth and extra squeeze she gave Emily. She really looked into Emily's eyes and saw her, not just with a glance but looking deeply into them when she pulled back. Her hand even came up and smoothed her bald head.
“How are you feeling?” Jessica asked Emily.
“I'm okay.”
“Are you being good for Sophie?”
Emily nodded. “Will you read me a story tonight?”
Jessica cleared her throat. And just like that, the Jessica I knew Emily longed for disappeared from her face, her demeanor, and her touch. “Actually, Emily, I'm going out tonight...to, uh, work.”
I had to look away when I saw the slump of Emily's shoulders and the disappointment in her attempt to smile for her mother. Sometimes, I told myself, life just wasn't fair. It seemed, at least where Emily was concerned, that it wasn't just sometimes but always.
“That's okay,” Emily said. “Maybe tomorrow.”
Jessica lightly patted Emily's shoulder. “That sounds good.”
Jessica avoided my hard stare as she exited the room. Just as well. I knew if she looked at me I wouldn't be able to stop myself from shaking her silly. It would have taken her less than five minutes to make her daughter's night and yet she chose to run. Grief or no grief, it was unacceptable.
It would have been a comfort to me if Emily allowed herself to cry. Instead, she turned to her bookshelf and started thumbing through a book.
“What would you like to read tonight, Em?” I asked her, kneeling next to her.
“This,” she said and held up her favorite, Llama Llama, Red Pajama. But of course, I sighed inwardly. The book about the little baby who missed its mother.
I tried to stifle the anger in me. Kevin blamed me once for letting Victoria consume me. He even encouraged me to go out with some friends while my daughter was in a hospital bed. I, in turn, blamed him for being an uncaring, insensitive father. In hindsight, I see that he was worried about me and might have even wanted to get our life together back on track, but living through the death of a child changes a person. I know it changed me.
There was no way I could know if I was letting Emily consume me now. No one was here to tell me. I didn't feel that way. I did realize, to a degree, I was living vicariously through her, and it felt like I was losing Victoria all over again. Caring about Emily that much was painful, and I knew eventually it would break my heart – even more than it broke now.
We walked together to her bed and climbed in. Every night it was the same. We cuddled together and read a book, I stayed with her until she fell asleep then I slipped into the living room to sleep on the couch. If she needed me, she called me during the night.
That night was no different.
***
During the wee hours of morning, however, Jessica stumbled through the front door and landed with a thud on the hardwood floor. I jumped up from the couch and hurried to her but not before I heard her muffled laughter. Her head wagg
ed side to side and a fist hit the ground.
“Stand up, Jessica,” I ordered and pulled her up. In the semi-darkness, I could see a shadow across her lower face and rushed to turn a light on. Sure enough, blood seeped from each nostril and yet she laughed. She reminded me of the joker in the Batman movie all unkempt and ragged. A far cry from how she’d left.
Where I got the strength to keep my cool, I'll never know. I calmly told her I thought her nose was broken and she should go to the hospital. Of course, she refused, so I was forced to do what I could with gauze and prayed she was smart enough when she sobered up a little to go. At least she had the good grace to sit still and let me. I half expected her to refuse me and shove something about Emily in my face.
“Emily loves you more than me,” she said as her eyes rolled.
“No, she doesn't,” I stated with a calm I didn't feel.
“She's told me when you're not here about all the things you do for her. It's more than I'll ever do.”
“That's your choice, Jessica.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “I suppose it is.”
We stared at each other in silence. Jessica was as wasted as she could get, but there was a clarity in her eyes that startled me.
“You don't know what it's like to watch your child die.” Jessica spat, swaying with the intensity of her words.
I opened my mouth to speak but she seemed to be on a roll so I closed it.
“You sit there and you judge me when you don't know anything about me or Emily. Yes, you've turned her against me and you've made her love you more than me when you had no right!”
I took a deep breath, trying to think of the best way to approach her accusations, but nothing came directly to mind.
She swiped angrily at the blood pouring from her nose. “I gave birth to her, I watched her grow, and I've made every decision about her health care and how to proceed and look where it got her! I've killed her!”
The Picture Page 9
